


you're here in my arms (i think i said goodbye too soon)

by TheSongOfTheCricket



Series: sometimes things get a little bit blurry [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, look it's not angst, that's new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSongOfTheCricket/pseuds/TheSongOfTheCricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But for right now, she feels and eerie sense of calm, an unsettling sense of warmth that washes over her little by little, until she can feel a gentle heat tingling from her fingertips to her toes. It's when the figure draws closer that the wind rushes from her lungs, so sudden she has to grip the windowsill to keep herself standing and steady.</p><p>There, weaving in the breeze of her front yard, is Allison Argent."</p><p>set sometime after 'you're dying in my arms (and i'm screaming your name)'</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're here in my arms (i think i said goodbye too soon)

**Author's Note:**

> oh look, i wrote a sequel.  
> i'm crying.

It's 2:19 in the morning when she wakes up with a shiver. Something that feels oddly akin to anticipation courses through her veins, as if she can just sense that something important is about to happen. It's this same feeling that prompts her to sit up in bed and push the covers off her legs.

She doesn't get up right away, sitting cross-legged with the sheets bunched around her. She feels chilled, in that nice, breezy sort of way, but it still puts her on her toes with nerves.

The wind begins to knock against her window with a soft jumble of whooshing noises, followed by the sound of tree branches rapping against the glass. It's enough to propel her from her bed and up onto her feet and towards the pane.

The sky is an inky black, but the moonlight illuminates her front yard in a soft glow, delicately caressing the branches and grass blades. She takes in the way it shines, early in the morning for only her to see, when something gives her pause. She notices is slowly, as if she had to register it before she knew. But there, in the distance, she can see it.

It's a figure.

She supposes that maybe she should be frightened, or at least the tiniest bit worried about the strange person lingering in her yard and taking slow steps towards her house. And any another time, she probably would be. But for right now, she feels and eerie sense of calm, an unsettling sense of warmth that washes over her little by little, until she can feel a gentle heat tingling from her fingertips to her toes. It's when the figure draws closer that the wind rushes from her lungs, so sudden she has to grip the windowsill to keep herself standing and steady.

There, weaving in the breeze of her front yard, is Allison Argent.

For a moment Lydia decides she cannot breathe, the air caught inside her throat, and she waits. Waits for something bad to happen, for Allison to disappear, for it all to come crashing back down again. But Allison only staggers across the yard and growing closer to the house, feet dragging with every step.

Lydia has to take a step back, hand flying to her mouth as she grips the foot of her bed for support. When she’s able to stand on her own, she turns back to see Allison looking up through the window and right at her. There’s something in her face that seems so earnest that Lydia knows it’s real, knows it’s actually her.

She bolts from the room, down the steps with thundering footsteps that she doesn’t even care if her mother hears. The door bangs against the wall when she throws it open and she ignores it. The dew is cold and wet against her bare feet and she ignores that, too, because nothing seems important at all when Allison is standing in her lawn, hunched and slumped and _alive._

Lydia crashes into her hard enough to make the other girl stumble, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Allison is warm is warm beneath her, breath skimming her ear and she’s here.

She’s here and Lydia's not letting her go.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up at the-cricket-song.tumblr.com


End file.
